


Knowing Better

by stardustandswimmingpools



Series: old souls & young hearts [1]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Castle Byers, Crossover, Fluff for the most part, Gay Male Character, Gen, Hawkins Indiana, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Male Friendship, Meet-Cute, New Friends, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon, Sexuality Crisis, an attempt to understand the geography of Hawkins, and will's misinformation, but without a name, contains one (1) reference to the love song of j alfred prufrock, contains the word tenebrosity, for both of them, headcanon that marvin listened to pink floyd, jason was 12 in 1981 and i did some math, kindaaaaa, longer than anticipated, nothing too bad though, of some sort anyway, potential for a continuation but probably won't have one, referenced HIV/AIDS, slight misinformation about AIDS and stuff, so he's 15 in this, takes place in 1984, talking to dead father figures for a mo', there's a mention of lonnie the asshole, which is a word i learned and it's super dope, why? because i'm a lazy writer that's why, will is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandswimmingpools/pseuds/stardustandswimmingpools
Summary: Jason tilts his head. “I've been here for two hours,” he says matter-of-factly.“In Castle Byers?”“No, in Hawkins,” Jason says. “I didn't think I was going to meet anyone. Especially not someone like you. Small town, I guess.”“What? Someone like me?” Will demands. “What does that mean?”Jason pauses. “Gay,” he says slowly. “You're gay. Aren't you?”





	Knowing Better

**Author's Note:**

> it took me a minute but i realized that Will 500% definitely needs to meet Jason. I just think that would be such a crucial meeting for him!! poor Will can't come to accept himself but maybe Jason, modern New Yorker with three fathers, can  
> I will say that Jason's characterization may be a little off, because he's 15 in this, and 15-year-olds behave very differently from their 12-year-old selves. it had to take place in Will's time, so I had to age Jason up three years. I tried to keep his essence, but his character is kinda flighty and hard to pin down. Besides, he's an angsty boy in the show, and this is two years later. Just bear with me.  
> I hope you all like it! Please leave a comment if you do, it means the world. Enjoy!

There's a scandal in Hawkins, Indiana. A conspiracy theory — maybe even a real one, based on recent news — about some governmental Department of Energy.

That's Jason’s reasoning behind his vacation selection when his mom gives him that exasperated _look_. Like he's trying to be exasperating.

He kind of is. But that's beside the point.

Mendel smiles with a false cheerfulness. “Hawkins!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together. His eyes fall on the state indicated by Jason’s finger on the map. “All the way in...Indiana. Great.”

“Indiana is great,” Trina agrees. “Jason, are you...are you s—”

“You asked me where I want to go,” Jason interrupts. “I want to go to Hawkins, Indiana.” In a moment of redemption, he adds encouragingly, “It’ll be cool. Hawkins is a small town. A change of scenery from New York City, it'll be better, right?”

Trina makes her best effort to smile. She rubs Jason’s shoulder. “Of course it will,” she says.

* * *

 

There's a small motel in Downtown Hawkins where Mendel and Trina finally decide to stay, mostly for lack of any other hotels or anything. Hawkins, Indiana isn't exactly a tourist attraction. The shops are these hole-in-the-walls with names like _Kathy’s Print Shop_ and _Benny’s Burgers_ (the owner of which, Jason reads on a sign on the door, is now tragically deceased). There are no more than four employees for even the bigger stores. It's remote, it's plain, it's unremarkable.

Jason adores it.

( _“Look at those awesome woods,” he says in the rental car, gazing in awe at the thick of trees obscuring anything beyond from view. He opens the window. The wind smacks his face and whistles through his hair, and the air is cold, clean, sharp. “Woah.”_

_“Windows closed on the highway,” Trina reminds him, and Jason rolls his eyes but closes it._ )

While Mendel checks them in, Jason says, “Can I go explore?”

Trina gives him a trying look. Her lips are pressed together. “I was thinking we would get settled, and then find something to eat.”

“Mom, it's like —” Jason checks his watch. “Three in the afternoon! What are you gonna eat?”

Trina sighs though her teeth. “I would really like if you could stick around this afternoon, Jason.”

“Tyrant,” Jason mutters. “Do you think I'll get lost? I'm fifteen! I know how to use a payphone. Besides, where the hell would —”

“Language,” Mendel interjects absentmindedly.

Jason rolls his eyes again. “Where the _heck_ would I get lost here? This town is, like, one square mile.”

“Room 141,” the woman (“Brenda!”) behind the register says, handing Mendel two keys. He passes one to Trina. “And — I know it's not my business, but this town is really too small to get lost in.” She leans over the counter. “Kid like that, he can pull his weight. He’ll be fine.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Jason says emphatically. He does not like talking to strange adults, but she's advocating for him.

Trina narrows her eyes. “Thank you, Brenda, but I think I can handle my son just fine,” she says testily.

Brenda shrugs. “Yes, ma’am. Stairs are that way.”

She points down to the end of the lobby. Jason folds his arms over his chest and lets Mendel drag both of their luggage.

Stupid parents.

* * *

 

After Jason unpacks faster than he's done anything before, he sits on the bed and bounces rhythmically, letting the squeaking noise grate on his parents’ ears until finally they snap.

“Okay,” Mendel finally cries, whirling around. “Alright, Jason! Go explore. Here, take —” he pats his pockets and pulls out four quarters, dropping them into Jason’s outstretched hand. “If you get lost, call us on a payphone or find the nearest safe-looking house.”

“Mendel,” Trina says warningly.

“Honey, come on, he's fifteen,” Mendel cajoles. “He's allowed to be independent. Fresh air will do that smoggy head some good, anyway.”

Jason wants to protest that his head is _not_ smoggy because he never goes outside, but he's pretty sure that will harm him more than help, so he keeps quiet.

Trina blows air through her teeth. “Fine,” she surrenders. “Alright. But _stay warm_. Keep your sweater on. And be back by five. No later, understood?”

“And those quarters are for calling us _only_ ,” Mendel adds sternly. “No splurging.”

“Okay,” Jason chirps. “Thanks, guys!” He gives Trina a quick hug before racing out of the motel room. “Love you!”

He's sure she and Mendel are exchanging a regretful look, but he's too thrilled to care.

* * *

 

The arcade looks cool — muted neon signs advertise _The Palace_ boldly — and Jason looks ruefully down at the four quarters he holds. They're for phone use only. Jason can be rebellious and mulish and temperamental, but he tries not to be insolent or dishonest.

He pockets the quarters and keeps walking. Occasionally he stops to read a sign on a door.

People are milling around, stepping in and out of the stores and chattering and holding hands and laughing and whistling and tugging coats around themselves. It has none of the hurry that New York City pretty much breathes. No one is rushing anywhere. Jason doesn't get shoved a single time.

A couple people look at him a second too long, which he doesn't like. He can hear them talking among themselves and it starts to feel increasingly like they’re talking about him. In New York he’s learned to blend in, but by contrast, he sticks out in this small town. His clothes are bright and modern. His hair is kinda quiffed. Everyone here looks a little...paler, duller. He wonders how many of them have ever left.

Above all, he thinks that everyone knows everyone in a tiny place like Hawkins, and Jason doesn't belong. Being aware of this doesn't make him feel better.

He detours into the woods.

The immediacy with which the trees grow dense and clustered is startling. Jason doesn’t exactly have any tree expertise. They’re tall and they have wide trunks and heavy branches. It's kind of spooky. If he gets killed or kidnapped or attacked out here, that's the end of him. Still, at least no one is staring.

Also, in the woods, he can almost guarantee his solitude. Hesitantly he opens his mouth and starts to talk.

“Kind of weird, huh?” he starts, kicking up leaves as he strolls. “Hawkins, Indiana. I know, you probably never wanted to make your way out here. A small Midwestern town isn’t exactly the best place for a gay guy to go. Besides, I know you came from here. I mean not here-here. Here like the Midwest here. I just thought it’d be cool.” He pauses and glances around. Still alone. He shakes off the feeling of being watched, because it’s crazy. “There’s this insane conspiracy around here. Not really a conspiracy, actually. They were on the news. Apparently some crazy toxic chemical leaked from the Department of Energy or something and killed some girl. They got shut down a few weeks ago. Scary, huh?” Despite himself, Jason grins. He knows he’s all by himself out here, and any passerby would call him a lunatic, but he doesn’t _feel_ alone. It feels like Whizzer is there, padding along beside him, listening patiently, nodding, humming his assent. _Definitely scary, Jason._

Darkness starts to descend, and soon the only light is whatever sun can squeeze through the canopy of branches and leaves. The sunlight trickles down and illuminates small patches of earth. It’s only 3:30 (Jason’s watch has white hands and numbers against a black background, so he can read it even when it’s dim), so Jason assumes the tenebrosity is only because of the thickening treetops.

After a long moment of silent walking, Jason, feeling restless in the almost ominous motionlessness of the forest, makes a U-turn and starts walking back. It’s silly to say that he grows nervous when he doesn’t recognize the surrounding trees, because trees all kind of look the same, but Jason feels it nonetheless.

Ten minutes later he sees a fort.

* * *

 

Will hasn’t been in Castle Byers since the Upside Down.

The boys, of course, don’t know that that had been where he’d been hiding, where he’d been captured by the Demogorgon. One time Dustin asks why they never go there anymore and if it’s still even there. Will takes a minute to collect himself before casually replying, “I just outgrew it.”

Maybe he transmits something deeper in the way he speaks, because the three of them exchange a look and never bring it up again.

Except for this one particular Tuesday.

It’s not any special Tuesday, but Will can’t seem to focus on his homework. His mind keeps wandering outdoors. It’s a crisp day, cold but not snowy and air fresh enough to fill his lungs and clear his mind. Besides, there’s a half-day tomorrow and then winter break. Who wants to focus on homework?

“Mom,” Will finally calls, “can I go outside?”

“Did you finish your homework?” Joyce’s voice replies faintly from the kitchen.

Will glances down guiltily at his worksheet, half-completed. “Yes,” he lies.

He hears his mom’s footsteps in the hall and quickly flips the paper over, blank back-side up. She appears in the doorway of the living room, an oven mitt on one hand, a dish towel in the other.

“Well where are you going?” she asks.

Will’s eyes scan the room as if that’ll give him an idea for an answer. “Uh,” he says. He should just tell her, _the lawn. I want some fresh air. I want room to breathe._ But that’s rude, he knows. And since the Upside Down and the whole conundrum, Will has learned to appreciate every moment he spends with his mom and brother, with his friends and family. It’s just sometimes he could really use some alone time. “Um.” Alone time. When was the last time he had _that?_ It appears in his mind before he can push it back. “Castle Byers.”

Joyce’s face changes in an instant: it draws with worry, her concern casting shadows over her whole expression. Will almost wants to take it back. The thought of that fort fills him with dread, but also something else, like anticipation. Or maybe courage. Or foolishness. There’s a fine line.  
“Sweetheart, is everything okay?” Joyce asks softly, taking a step further into the room. “That’s...honey, that…”

Maybe it’s his mother’s hesitance that solidifies his decision to revisit. “I’m okay, mom,” he says. He tries to sound braver than he feels. “I just...I was thinking I could restock it. You know, update the inventory. All the books and stuff in there are old, and there’s no more paper.”

Joyce appears to be struggling, so Will nudges her in his favor by standing up decisively. “I’ll be home soon,” he says. “I promise. Please?” He glances out the window. “It’s a nice day.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Joyce asks.

Will shakes his head. “I’m okay. I’ll bring some extra paper and comics. I’ll be fine, mom,” he adds, when she doesn’t look like she’s gonna give in.

Joyce sighs and walks over to hug Will. He lets her do it, partially because he knows this means she’ll let him go out, and partially because whenever he wants to groan and tell her to shove off (maybe a little more politely), he remembers those days in the Upside Down where he was full to bursting with terror so paralyzing he sometimes almost forgot to breathe. He hugs her a little tighter.

“My baby boy,” she murmurs. “I can’t help but worry, but can you blame me?”

“I don’t blame you, mom,” Will says, smiling.

Joyce pulls away and tosses the dish towel over her shoulder so she can ruffle his hair. “And you shouldn’t! Who does all your laundry, huh?”

Will giggles. “Thanks, mom. I love you.”

“Love you too, baby. Just don’t stay out too late. And make sure you keep warm!” she adds. “Grab your jacket!”

“I will,” Will says, eagerly heading towards the front door. He snags his coat off the kitchen table as he goes.

Outside, the air is as brisk as it had seemed from the living room window. Will takes in deep lungfuls of oxygen, relishing in how clean it is.

_Not like the Upside Down,_ he thinks, shivering. _This is not the Upside Down. This is the right-side up. This is your home. And Castle Byers is your castle! Reclaim your throne!_

Confident, he begins his trek into the woods. The trees looming above him don’t scare him like they used to. Or rather, they kind of do, but in a different way. Before, it was idle fear, the constant unease that there was something watching. Now he knows there had been, and maybe maybe maybe there still is, but he’s been there. He knows it. Know thine enemy, or at least that’s what they say.

So when Will spots his fort, he marches right up to it, determined not to be afraid.

Until someone pokes their head out and says, “Oh, hi.”

* * *

 

It takes Will a dizzyingly long moment to recover from that shock.

“What are you doing in my castle?” he exclaims, indignant, when the boy therein doesn’t react to Will’s silent look of dread.

“Are you Will the Wise?” the kid asks, clambering out of the fort and re-examining the signs.

Will takes a deep breath, then another. _He’s just a boy. Just a kid. He can’t hurt you. He’s a person. A human being._

Although Will knows all too well that sometimes, teenage boys do the most damage.

“Just Will,” he mumbles, suddenly hoping beyond hope that the kid will leave before he can do more to Will than throw some scathing insults. How did he even find this place? No one comes to the Byers’ edge of the woods. _Especially_ not since he got “lost” in them.

Come to think of it, Will has never seen this guy’s face around anywhere. Can’t even put a name to it.

“I’m Jason,” the kid says, but he doesn’t hold out a hand to shake or even offer a further explanation. Instead, he says thoughtfully, “Did you build this?”

“Do you go to Hawkins High?” Will asks.

Jason turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “No. I’m from New York.”

This raises more questions than answers, but at least, Will acknowledges dryly, they’re a little nicer down in New York. Or at least more accepting of weird people like Will. Will doesn’t know a ton about geography or the government or whatever, but as far as liberal policies go, New York is more or less winning that race.

Although —

“If you’re from New York, how did you end up in Hawkins?” Will pries. Jason is walking the perimeter of Castle Byers now. He looks legitimately intrigued by the whole thing. “Nobody just...comes here. Especially not after — what happened.”

Jason’s head peers around the corner of Castle Byers. “Something happened,” he repeats.

Will shifts. “Uh, well, just this thing with the Department of Energy. They got shut down.”

Jason says, “Can I sit in the fort?”

And what is Will going to say? _No?_ So far, Jason has proven himself friendly enough. If he was going to mock Will, he would've done it already.

And — Will hates to admit it, but having someone else here makes the anxiety diffuse a little.

“Yeah,” he says. “I came to restock it. That's all.”

He feels foolish asking for the password, so he doesn't, and follows Jason through the entranceway. Under his breath, he whispers, “Radagast,” for continuity.

“I found your comic books,” Jason says. He turns to look at Will, and there's a hint of discomfort. “I guess I shouldn't have come in, but a fort in the woods? What else was I supposed to do?”

Will actually laughs, settling comfortably down on his blanket, against the cushion. There's plenty of room for two, since sometimes his mom used to come in, or Jonathan. Jason is smaller than both of them, and he leans against the stuffed lion opposite Will with ease.

“It's okay,” Will says. “I don't come here a lot anymore.”

“How come? It's awesome,” Jason enthuses.

Will smiles shyly. “Thanks, I...I don't know.” That's a bald-faced lie, but it's the only option he has. What is he going to do, tell this random New Yorker the truth?

“Well you should,” Jason says. “If I had a fort...I wish I had a fort.”

“It's a castle.” As soon as he says it he wants to take it back. How stupid can he sound?

“Wish I had any of that,” Jason says wistfully. “My mom and dad are so clingy.”

“Mine too,” Will sympathizes. “But I get it. I mean, they mean well. My mom and brother, not my — I don't — not my dad.”

“You don't have a dad?” Jason asks.

Will looks down at his blanket. He picks at a thread, uncomfortable, wanting suddenly to be alone. “Well, I...I have my brother. Jonathan. He's cool. He listens to The Clash.”

“My dad used to listen to Pink Floyd,” Jason says, grinning ironically. “He tried to get me to listen to them, but...I didn't like them.”

“Did he stop?” Will asks, confused.

Jason glances over at Will. “Uh, you could say that.”

Will must look positively bewildered, because Jason adds, “He died. Two years ago.”

“Oh,” Will murmurs. “I'm sorry.”

Jason shrugs.

“But didn't you…” Will pauses, trails off. He doesn't want to be pushy, but Jason had _just_ alluded to his clingy parents. Present tense.

Jason apparently understands Will’s unsaid inquiry. He sighs and says, “I had three dads. Can you imagine that? Three.”

“What?” Will says, disbelieving. Who could possibly have three dads? One was too many for Will.

Jason chuckles. “Yeah. My real dad — I guess that's not exactly right. My biological dad Marvin, and his boyfriend Whizzer, and my mom’s new husband Mendel. Three.”

Will feels something sticky inside his chest, like molasses. It's not really there, but he lifts a hand and presses it to his sternum anyway. “Boyfriend?” he manages.

Jason’s face turns stony in an instant. “Yeah,” he says, eyes narrowing. “My dad had a boyfriend. Is that a problem?”

“No!” Will exclaims. The sticky feeling grows thicker. “No, I...I didn't…”

“Good,” Jason says. His cheery disposition returns. “I know this is a small-minded place.”

“Tell me about it,” Will mumbles. He can't shake that feeling in his chest. Like there's a pot of water and his ribcage is a stove and somebody is slowly turning up the heat. Like bubbling.

Jason tilts his head. “I've been here for two hours,” he says matter-of-factly.

“In Castle Byers?”

“No, in Hawkins,” Jason says. “I didn't think I was going to meet anyone. Especially not someone like you. Small town, I guess.”

“What? Someone like me?” Will demands. “What does that mean?”

Jason pauses. “Gay,” he says slowly. “You're gay. Aren't you?”

The water boils over and Will flinches like he's been burned by it. _Gay_ **.** He's _gay._ _I'm gay._

“I…”

“Or not?” Jason prompts. “Was that forward? My dad used to tell me to not be so impertinent.”

“I don't — um…” Will wants to leap up, run out of Castle Byers and away from this weird kid with three dads, this modern New Yorker who probably has gay friends and is probably gay and —

He wants to run home and hug his mom and never talk again.

Instead he's frozen to the spot.

“You don't have to tell me,” Jason says quickly. “Either way. I guess it's not as easy to be gay out here as it is where I'm from.” He looks away. The prior comfort of Castle Byers has vanished. “Marvin and Whizzer, they both died from something they got for being gay.”

“So it _is_ a disease,” Will whispers. That's what Lonnie used to say. That boys who liked boys were all sick and  —

“No,” Jason says sternly. “It is _not_!”

“But you just said —”

“They got it _from_ being gay,” Jason interrupts. “Not _by_ being gay.”

“What's the difference?”

“Only gay people can get it,” Jason explains, “but not _all_ gay people get it.”

“Oh.” Will looks around Castle Byers. The paper and books he’d brought with him to replenish the fort are stacked on the comforter beside him. He picks up a sheet of paper and toys with the edges, bending the corners over and creasing them.

“Will?” Jason says.

“Yeah?”

“Do you...have friends?”

Will looks up, surprised. “Yeah. Mike and Dustin and Lucas and Max and El. And Steve, I guess...and Nancy...why?”

“Do you think they think that gay people are diseased?” Jason says softly.

Oh.

Will wants to answer, but it occurs to him that he’s never really thought about it. He’d assumed, in his mind, that they, like Lonnie, would instantly be against the idea of boys liking boys. Gay people. _Gay_ , he repeats in his mind, just to get a feel for the word. There have been harder words to say, he decides.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I never asked.”

“You should.” Jason pauses. “I think...sometimes people surprise you.”

“How old are you?” Will asks.

“Fifteen,” Jason says, unfazed. “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“Oh,” Jason says. “I thought you were older.”

Will blushes. “I’m pretty small.”

“You’re pretty smart, too,” Jason says. “Did you draw all of these?”

Will looks around. He tries to see his castle through Jason’s eyes: a stranger with a wooden fortress in the forest, with all kinds of weird drawings and experiments.

“Yeah,” he says.

“They’re cool,” Jason says, turning to examine one on his left. Then he looks back at Will sharply. “If you don’t tell anyone that you’re gay, you’re gonna marry a woman, and then you’ll have a kid and then you’ll cheat on your wife with a man and then you’ll get divorced and your whole family will be ruined and your kid will end up with three dads. So you should tell someone.”

“I’m not gay,” Will says, but even to his ears it sounds unconvincing.

Jason shrugs noncommittally. “If you are.”

Will turns this over in his mind for a moment. The swirling turmoil in his ribcage is starting to lessen. “Your dad,” he says slowly. “The gay one. The gay ones. Were they…did they…were they — okay?”

It feels like a dumb question. Obviously they weren’t okay. They both died. But Jason meets Will’s eyes and says, “Yeah. They were good. They were really, really good.”

And it strikes Will, for probably the first time, that one day he could be really, really good too.

* * *

 

It’s mostly a coincidence that they both have to leave around the same time. Jason’s watch flashes 4:30, and just as he starts to say that he has to go back to his motel, Will apologetically says, “I should go home. My mom gets worried about me.”

Jason chuckles. “Mine too. I have to go back to the motel or I’ll be grounded or something.”

Will’s eyes widen, like he’s never heard of being grounded. Which Jason doubts. He knows that small-town people have small-town ideas and if being grounded happens in New York, it sure as hell happens in Hawkins, Indiana.

Will offers to show Jason to the main road. They both stand up, crouching, and step out of Castle Byers. Will stretches, and Jason stretches because he’s taller than Will. He feels oddly...mature. Whizzer kicking the bucket at his bar mitzvah was a wake-up call to the real world, for sure, but this feels different.

Jason has never been depended on before.

But this little lost kid…

“Why is it called Castle Byers?” he asks as Will leads him through the woods.

“That’s my last name,” Will says. He hesitates. “Um, I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Why, because I’m a stranger?”

Will nods. Jason bites back a laugh. “I can pretend to forget it.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

The forest seems less towering with someone nearby, even if that someone is three years younger than him and seems to be scared of just about everything.

“So,” Jason says, “that thing you mentioned. About the Department of Energy. What happened?”

Because hell if he won’t get some theorizing out of this meetup.

Will looks over at Jason before his eyes train back on the ground, and his hands ball into fists around the sleeves of his coat. “Um, well, the Department of Energy was doing some experiments, and the lab kind of...leaked. And it killed my best friend’s sister’s best friend. Barbara.”

“Holland,” Jason recalls. “She was on the news.”

“Yeah,” Will says, fussing with the zipper of his jacket. “But like I said, they were shut down. It should — it’s over now.”

He says _it's over_ like there was something to be completed, some ordeal. And yeah, there was the scandal, but that can't have had anything to do with Will. Not this tiny child.

Jason remembers when he was twelve. He remembers his bar mitzvah, and the best and worst year of his life, and Whizzer.

Sometimes bad things happen to 12-year-olds.

Sometimes 12-year-olds don’t tell the full truth. Jason certainly didn't, not to his teachers or the counselor they sent him to or anyone.

He wants to press for more details, but he can somehow sense that that’s a mistake. Will doesn’t look like he wants to be talking about it.

“Okay,” he acquiesces.

They walk in silence for awhile. The cold wind nips at Jason’s fingers insistently until he shoves his hands in the pocket of his coat. It rustles the trees and leaves and flutters through Jason’s hair.

After a minute, Jason sees a house through the trees. “Nearly there,” he observes, feeling awkward.

Will nods. “If you walk down that road,” he points, “for like ten minutes, you’ll get downtown. I’d walk you, but I really need to go home.”

Leaves fall gently to the ground around them as they stroll. They reach the road within the minute, and Will comes to a halt. He lifts an index finger to point at a house a little ways away, and says, “That’s my house. I should...I should go home.”

“Thanks for letting me sit in your castle,” Jason says. “It was cool.”

“Yeah,” Will says. His fingers tighten around the sleeves of his jacket, and he says, “Thanks for — I mean, nice to meet you.”

Jason smiles. Will is just a kid. And Jason had to live through so much when he was twelve — a sexuality crisis is _nothing_. And yet…

“When you think you’re ready to tell your friends,” he ventures, “don’t overthink it. If they really care about you, they won’t care about who you like.”

Will ducks his head. “I’m not gay,” he whispers.

Jason feels a strange compulsory urge to pat his shoulder. “I hear you,” he says. “I’m just saying. Trust your friends.”

“Nice to meet you,” Will says again, looking up. His cheeks are slightly pink, probably not from the cold weather. “Jason. I guess...I might see you around. It’s a small town. How long are you here?”

“Until Sunday,” Jason says. He counts on his fingers, _Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday_. “Six days. Almost a week.”

“Oh,” Will says. “Cool. Well, see you around. Enjoy, uh, our town…I guess.”

Jason smiles again. “Okay. Bye, Will. Nice to meet you too.”

He turns and starts to walk down the road.

A moment later he hears: “Wait, Jason?”

He turns around.

“If you want — you can meet my friends,” Will offers from a few feet away. “I mean, not right now, but if you want...later...we have the rest of the week off. And — I’m sure they won’t mind. So…”

Jason grins so widely he feels his face might split in two. When was the last time someone asked if he wanted to hang out with them?

“Sounds like fun,” Jason says. “I’m in room 141. At the motel. I doubt there’s more than one motel in Hawkins.”

Will giggles. “Yeah.”

“See you later,” Jason says, and lifts his hand in a wave.

He turns on his heel and continues walking down the half-deserted street.

* * *

 

Jason knows better, Will decides, watching his back recede.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! There's a very slim chance I'll ever actually write the potential continuation of this (Jason meeting the A/V Club), because I don't think I could maintain Jason's character that well for that long with that many people. (He interacts with NO ONE his age in Falsettos, what am I supposed to do???) But I hope you liked this little snippet of possibility. I'm on Tumblr [@vivilevone](http://vivilevone.tumblr.com/), so go find me there and talk to me about whatever. 'Til the next one!


End file.
